


Dance of the Knights

by lunicole



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Caning, Explicit Consent, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kink Meme, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, No Sex, Roleplay, Safewords, Sex Work, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunicole/pseuds/lunicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t really like being a sex worker, Hux tells himself sometimes, mostly when he has a fleeting thought for Father whenever they ask him to play out some sort of rather tasteless incest fantasy. Still, if it wasn't, he probably wouldn’t be here watching the Greek tragedy that is the Skywalker family unfold before him, and he would certainly not place his leather gloves into the girl’s palm, his naked fingertips only briefly brushing against hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance of the Knights

This isn’t _really_ like being a sex worker, Hux tells himself sometimes, mostly when he has a fleeting thought for Father whenever they ask him to play out some sort of rather tasteless incest fantasy. It is, after all, in a rigidly legal sense, exact. He doesn’t _fuck_ anyone here, at least not in an anatomical way, as far as he’s concerned. The technicalities that come with his very specific type of practice walk that thin line, but never cross into outright criminality. Hux has always been an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.

 

Still, that kind of definition lacks flesh when it come to define what it is exactly that Hux does here. The scope of his activities varies. The gaudy, large suite has an interesting assortment of furniture, from the large, cushy bed to the mildly threatening Saint Andrew’s cross that thrones next to it. He’s tried his hand at most of what it can offer, in terms of pain or pleasure. It’s a fun hobby, or at least a very lucrative one.

 

If asked about the motivations behind this by a client, Hux would throw a veiled icy glare and calmly explain the notion of boundaries, something this little activity he does on the sidelines has made him an expert in. The truth, however, is that Hux doesn’t really know himself. The sense of trust and power his clients give him with their money, their body and their mind. The enjoyment there is to take in both causing ecstasy and suffering. The way expensive silk ties and leather coats look on him. Hux prides himself in being high class, and everything about this is designed to make him feel this exact way.

 

Tonight is different, though. He’d shrugged off the boring blue day suit on his way back from his accounting job and real life, putting on the all-black tuxedo that, he thinks, makes him look like the a proper James Bond villain. There’s a character aspect to the work, from his carefully gelled hair to the posh accent he fakes to an almost native perfection.

 

His psychiatrist would say something about escapism and control, but Hux doesn’t actually tell the truth to his psychiatrist on most days. He takes both female and male clients, although he has a hard time wrapping his head around what this entails concerning his sexual orientation. The old psychoanalyst would have field day telling him this all comes from his rather strained relationship with both of his parents. He doesn’t need to hear that.

 

He’s sitting at one of the tables with a glass of water. _First Order_ is quiet for a Friday night. The bar, which is where he usually meets clients, gives him reductions on the room he rents next door, as he’s been a regular for years already. He doesn’t drink on the job, doesn’t take any drunk clients, as he flatters himself in selling his skill, his attention for details and his work ethic.

 

A few leather clad businessmen are getting flogged onstage by Phasma, the statuesque full-time mistress with thighs strong enough to crack open a man’s skull. He watches, for a moment, with a half amused look on his face, and they exchange a look of silent understanding before looking back at his phone. There’s a few missed texts, clients, probably looking for a quick fix they know he’s the best to administer, but he’s not here for that tonight.

 

This isn’t _really_ sex work, but things do get mixed up once in awhile. He’s waiting for someone tonight, someone who’s left a rather impressive amount of money in his bank account with the request that he’d accept to meet her and talk. It’s about Kylo Ren. With that kind of money on the line, and the secrecy that shrouds the entire thing, it can’t be about anything else than Kylo Ren. Hux should have known better than to get involved with an overly wealthy heir to one of the largest financial corporations in the country

 

Hux recognises the client instantly, in the white dress she said she’d wear, and she walks towards his table, sitting herself comfortably opposite him. She sticks out like a sore thumb in the very leathery looks most visitors at First Order present, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her brown hair is neatly tied up away from her face, and she doesn’t smile.

 

“So you’re _The General_?”

 

He looks her all over before answering. It’s part of the game, in a way. She’s pretty, with a lithe little body, soft features, which doesn’t come as much as a surprise to Hux as much it should. There’s just a hint of muscles under the skin of her arms, and a smooth quality to the slope of her neck.

 

“And you’re _The Scavenger_ ,” he say softly.

 

This is when she smiles, just a little, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“I imagined you taller,” she taunts him. “Bigger, too.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“The British accent is a nice touch.”

 

She’s playing with him, and he would let her have her way if he knew he would get to spank her for it later on while she begged pathetically for him to keep going, but this isn’t the case just now. There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice as he speaks.

 

“You wanted to talk to me about some concerns you might have. I imagine it’s not about my looks, but about Ren.”

“That’s the name he uses here, right? Kylo Ren?”

 

Her question is more of a rhetorical one, and there’s a hint of wonder in it. It grates on Hux’s nerve without him really knowing why.

 

“Yes, that’s the name I use with him when I slap him around and he begs me to keep going.”

 

Her face changes, and he knows he’s said something wrong, but he can hardly care. Rich kids, with rich futures, trophy girlfriends to parade in front of a patrician father and a will to expiate pent-up anger through sadomasochism. Hux knows of Ren’s private and public life through various odd blinks of conversation, but he’s done his best to avoid getting too involved in the topic. It still didn’t keep him from ending up in this mess.

 

“I’m not in love with your boyfriend, if that’s what you’re worried about” he says flatly, and it’s the truth.

 

The girl stays silent. It’s almost as if she’s shocked that these things don’t exactly work the way she imagined it. There’s no love in this very specific type of business that _technically_ isn’t sex work, at least not coming from Hux. He would laugh at her wide-eyed ignorance, but he’s too busy trying to get into her head, from the way her whole body seems to tense. She bites her lip, self-consciously, for a very brief instant.

 

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

 

_Oh._

 

Hux prides himself in being prepared for everything, that this is what makes him good at what he does, but he hadn’t seen that one coming, and he hates himself for it. Of course. _Of course, you somber idiot!_

 

Surprise must have shown on his face because the girl leans forward to catch his hand over the table, and he almost, almost jumps at the sudden contact. Hux doesn’t like being touched, and so he calmly moves her hand aways. Her cheeks take a slight red tint as he does, and she starts toying nervously with her fingers.

 

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t want to tell you earlier because of my request.”

 

Her eyelashes flutter.

 

“I guess it’s too late now.”

 

Hux rises an eyebrow. Truth is that he wants to leave, maybe take one of these lonely wealthy married women for the night to pay him a few thousand dollars to choke her until she is left with her voice raw in his suite. But there’s something keeping him here, the words that are to fall from her lips, the nagging need to dig deeper into the mess that his encounter with Kylo Ren had become.

 

“... And what exactly is your request?”

 

Her eyes face his, earnest at last. She’s resolute, and it’s almost frightening.

 

“I want you to do to me what exactly it is that you do to him.”

 

.

 

“I don’t gag new clients,” Hux says as he pushes open the door to his suite, the girl standing next to him. “Too dangerous. Nothing with breathplay either, no whips, and definitely no blood.”

 

The girl looks at him.

 

“Why not?” she asks candidly.

 

Hux would groan out of annoyance if he could.

 

“Because I want you to be able to tell me clearly when to stop, and I don’t want you to leave with too many visible marks on yourself.”

 

Hux takes off his coat, and they both sit on the bed. The girl is nervous, it’s obvious, but there’s another kind of tension to her whole body Hux can’t help but to be fascinated about. She bites her lower lip again.

 

“Do you usually do this to him? The flogging and the choking?”

“Yes.”

“Is it enjoyable?”

 

_If he pays me several thousand dollars for each session, it must mean that he does find it enjoyable, don’t you think?_

 

“For a certain type of people.”

 

He’s already speaking in a deeper voice, and they haven’t even started yet. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not professional, it’s not what he usually does and it’s definitely not within the careful guidelines he’s given himself when he started all of this. There’s something wrong with Ren’s sister the same way there’s something wrong with Ren himself, but it hasn’t kept him from going far outside of the boundaries that should normally keep this in check.

 

“Why do you want this?” he asks. “You’ve said what you want, you’ve signed the release, you’ve paid me, but you haven’t told me why?”

 

They’re both aware of how bizarre the situation is, and how complicated this is swirling into, and even though Hux probably won’t say out loud what is making him act so much out of character, out of _this_ character he’s forged himself in this suite, he’ll at least put the question on the table.

 

The girl lowers her eyes, but even if she’s still nervous, and still, Hux can feel it, aching for something more, there’s strength in the way she articulates, and talks.

 

“I… I love Ben. Not… Not like in a sexual way, you know. It’s just…”

 

She shrugs.

 

“We didn’t grow up together, and lately it’s been… Difficult. I just… I want to be in his skin. I want to know what it’s like for him to let go in this way.”

 

She’s surprisingly honest, and Hux can only nod in agreement. It’s hard for him to judge anyway. He knows Ren is a basket case and he knows that if he had any sense of self-preservation he would refuse him what he craves, but he can’t. He wouldn’t be here watching the Greek tragedy that is the Skywalker family unfold before him, and he would certainly not place his leather gloves into the girl’s palm, his naked fingertips only briefly brushing against hers.

 

“Good.”

 

He takes a deep breath. She wants the first time, which, in a way, feels like the most important time when it comes to whatever this mess with Ren is. They’ve talked about this at the bar, but he likes a bit of a refresher before starting. It makes things feel cleaner.

 

“Now, you’re going to put these gloves over my hands. As long as I’m wearing them, you’re to submit to me. Once they’re off, the scene ends. You can interrupt the scene by pulling one of them off if you want. I will also taken them off when you use the safeword, which is ‘Red’. Is that understood?”

 

She nods, her eyes closed, already bending to the sound of his voice.

 

“In this scene, you are to refer to me exclusively as _Sir_ or _General_. I am going to bend you over my desk and tie you to it with handcuffs. They have a small button that will make them unlock instantly if pressed, which you are allowed to use if you want to end the scene. I will be disciplining you, with some spanking and with a cane. I will insult you and demean you. You will ask for forgiveness, which I may or may not give. Are you at ease with this?”

 

There’s a shiver that runs through her spine. She knows the scene, what he is to do to her, and what is expected of her. Hux can feel something shifting between the both of them, as her hands take the gloves and pull them over his own.

 

“Yes...” she says, her eyes opening to look at him, now. “Yes, _General_.”

 

The world turns over in the blink of an eye. The gloves are on, and Hux hungers for the strange pleasures that spring from domination. It doesn’t take him long after she’s done to grab her face forcefully, pulling her close with an icy look on his face. She whines in surprise, and something else, something more primal, and it makes him want to break her even more.

 

“You’ve failed me, _Scavenger_. You’ve failed me and you are to pay for it.”

 

These words aren’t new, the same way this scene isn’t new, although the way the girl’s eyes widen in fear and anticipation remind him of someone else, in an entirely different set of circumstances. He chases the thought away as he pushes her face away, and she falls down the bed on her knees at his feet. He rises, lording over her, and grabs her up by the hair, destroying the neat updo that hold away her thin brown hair.

 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asks with a deep voice as he forces her gaze towards him. “Why shouldn’t I end your pathetic excuse of a life just yet?”

 

There’s a moment of silence before she speaks, and Hux fears very briefly that he’s messed this up. This is too rough of an entry, even though this is exactly what he’s done to Ren the first time they met, but the girl isn’t Ren, and this is a mess.

 

He’s about to break character, but then it comes, not quite broken just yet.

 

“... I’m sorry, Sir. Please forgive me, Sir.”

 

The sound of it pleases him, and so he forces her upright again, his other hand tracing the side of her jaw. It’s soft, round, so unlike Ren’s own, and there’s still a hint of defiance in her eyes that he will ignore for this time. Hux can’t help but to wonder if she bruises as easily as her brother. He tries not to think about what that implies too much.

 

His fingers ghost lower, over her chin, her throat, her chest, the thin fabric of her white dress. He wonders briefly if he shouldn’t rip it off of her, decides against it. Hux has a love for fine garments and expensive fabric. Knowing who he’s dealing with, he’s pretty sure the piece of clothing is worth more than his monthly rent.

 

“It isn’t enough to be sorry.”

 

Her neck is delicate, and he opts to force her towards the desk by firmly gripping her shoulder. She folds under his strength pliantly, and it’s an almost terrifying feeling to know she’s smaller and probably weaker than him, physically speaking. There’s a weight to it his encounters with her brother don’t have. With his generous physique and imposing stature, whereas Hux’s own body has always been long, scrawny and wiry, it’s easy to imagine Ren turning the tables and easily overpowering him on a whim. Maybe it’s part of the thrill, and of the reasons why Hux still can’t find it in himself to refuse him anything. He doesn’t want to know.

 

He pushes her firmly against the desk, slapping a pair of handcuffs on her he’s kept in the inside pocket of his suit so far. They make a nice clicking sound, and she doesn’t protest, doesn’t struggle. Her skin has all the warm tones his own desperately lacks, and it compliments the deep mahogany colour of the wooden table.

 

Her breath hitches in her throat as he caresses the curve of her ass, lifting up her dress and giving it a punishing slap. Underneath his fingertips, he can feel her skin through the white lace panties she’s wearing. It’s soft, and getting warmer after the impact. Hux knows instantly the exact shade of light pink it’ll take when he’s done with her. That thought arouses him more than it should, and he chases it away by gripping her hair and forcing her head flush against the desk’s surface.

 

“Is this what you want, slave? Is this the reason why you’re a constant disappointment to me?”

 

Hux doesn’t usually try to dig deeper when it comes to clients and their kinks. There’s a brief moment of hesitation on her side that means more than it should, sudden images of Ren’s begging whenever he’d demean him this way flooding Hux’s mind. The full realisation that he’s doing the exact same thing to _his sister_ feels oddly erotic in all the wrong ways.

 

“... I’m worthless,” she whispers softly. “Please...”

 

There’s something more than simple submission and domination for her, for Ren and for Hux himself.

 

He grips her ass, enjoying the feel of supple flesh under his palm. She breathes in somewhat shakily. This is taking a different turn now, and Hux can know exactly what’s going on through her head now. She came thinking about him, about Ren, about what this means to him, and, maybe, unknowingly, about what this mean to the girl herself. All of this isn’t of any importance anymore. She’s letting go, little by little, and she doesn’t fight it anymore. She breathes out, slowly.

 

“I need you to make me right, Sir.”

 

A loud smack comes over her ass, and she gasps loudly, in that delightful sound that elegantly mixes pain and pleasure. Within the same movement, Hux yanks down her underwear, feeling the expanse of skin warm up.

 

He would have, in all honestly, prefered to spank her. She’s only a handful of months younger than Ren, but she definitely doesn’t look like it. Maybe it’s the white dress that keeps reminding her of a sacrificial virgin in all the strange aspects of his own psyche this entails. Ren doesn’t talk about his family, which is a good thing both for Hux and Ren himself, but the current situation makes Hux reconsider his careful rules when it comes to clients. He knows what he’s doing, but he’s not completely certain of the things he’s playing with, things that are bigger than the cane he produces from one of the desk’s drawers, and bigger than himself.

 

The first blows has the girl yelp out in surprise, but there’s pleasure, and thankfulness, in her voice too. Hux knows he’s got her where she wants, where she needs to be, and that state of fact is reassuring. The gloved hands manipulate the reed with precision, so she won’t bruise too much. There’s another blow, and another, and her initial scream had left room to a wanton panting with intermittent pathetic little moans that sends shivers down Hux’s spine.

 

“Please, _ah, Sir!_... Please!”

 

This isn’t really sex work, and the pleasure he gets out of this usually is a mostly psychological one, and one he doesn’t talk about to his therapist. The way she writhes against her restraints shouldn’t be making his cock stir the way it does, already half hard in his pants. He hits her another time, satisfied with the light bruising showing up on her ass already. He takes a break to admire his work, pressing his palm once more against her body, leaning over her and ghosting his lips against her neck as he speaks.

 

“Good girl...” he says gripping her hair now. “It seems like you’re a natural when it comes to take a beating, hm?”

 

Her breath is still ragged from the pain and excitement, and her eyes are foggy with lust. He’s too close to her and the way sweat is starting to pearl on her forehead from the exhaustion makes him want to do things that would definitely cross some boundaries.

 

He kisses the side of her neck, softly, without really meaning to. She has that exquisite forbidden taste that makes him pause in shock of what he's done. It's against the rules, his rules, and he’s glad the girl is still in that what seems like a decent level of subspace for her not to register.

 

Hux chases away pesky thoughts of right and wrong, of his own desires and lust, focuses on the task at hand. His grip on her hair tightens once more, and she writhes with a sound that mixes delight and discomfort. He’s reassured, now, of his own power, and his own control. It's enough for him, for now.

 

.

 

The rest of the session goes on without a hitch, and the girl finishes the evening in the suite’s bath, her wet hair sticking to her back as Hux carefully passes a sponge over her shoulders. She's still a tad bit too docile for him to feel completely at ease with letting her go, and she's paid him enough for the entire weekend if she wanted to have him so long. Her dress is neatly folded next to the sink, and Hux sits on the edge of the victorian bathtub without a word. His black suit hasn't caught a wrinkle after ferociously beating her into submission. It's part of the magic of the job, Hux likes to think.

 

She’s sipping on the cup of tea he’s made her cautiously as he washes her hair with a warm  wet hand towel, her knees propped in front of her in a crouching position in the water.

 

“I was wondering…” she asks, her nose down in her tea. “Do you have sex with your clients, sometimes?”

 

Hux surprises himself chuckling amusedly.

 

“No. It would break the spell of it all, wouldn’t it? My success depends on my capacity of being seemingly unattainable, you know.”

 

She takes a moment to think, emptying the cup in one long gulp before turning around to face Hux. Her small breasts glisten from the bath water, and tremble as she takes a deep breath before speaking again.

 

“I can imagine you have clients who would want you to anyway.”

 

_Such as you, or your brother?_

 

“I refuse them. They usually understand.”

“What happens when they don't?”

“I stop seeing them,” he lies.

 

She looks up to him, gaze intent, a tiny little hint of a pout ghosting over her lips. She's beautiful, just like her brother, but she's smarter than him when it comes to things like this. She's smarter than Hux when it comes to dealing with the entire situation, in a way, and so she doesn't need to ask any more questions to understand what exactly has been going on between _Kylo Ren_ and _The General_ within this same suite. She knows now.

 

“That sounds like a proper way to deal with them.”

 

She lets him help her dress herself afterwards, zipping up the white dress, his fingertips brushing against the skin of her back. She lets out that quick inaudible little breath when as he does. The gesture feels intimate even though he’s done the same thing with a rather large panel of clients in the past, on a way that remains oddly non-sexual.

 

This isn’t _really_ like being a sex worker, he tells himself once again as he escorts her out, her arm over his own with a very strange type of natural grace. She’s got a driver waiting for her, but she still stops before entering the car to face Hux.

 

“Thank you, _General_ ,” she says with a knowing smile. “For everything.”

 

He doesn’t ask if that means they’ll never see each other again. It’s obvious that they won’t, and the fact that he’s somehow disappointed about this makes everything infinitely more complicated than it should be if he wasn’t such an idiot. He doesn’t have the time to think more about it, because quickly enough she’s on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. The gesture has this forbidden quality to it, but Hux doesn’t comment on it as she disappears into the black sedan and into the hazy night air of the sparkling city.

 

The following week, Phasma hands him a small box she said was left in _First Order_ ’s mailbox as he comes in for his usual friday night clients. Hux observes it with interest, the obviously expensive and delicate wrapping giving him a bit of an idea of what exactly is going on. It’s brand new leather gloves of top quality, and a small, delicate handwritten note.

 

_I’m sorry that Ben is so in love with you, although I can understand why, now. Please take care of him. I trust you, and I will destroy you if you really do break his heart. I’m sure you understand why, General._

_-The Scavenger_

 


End file.
